


Green Eggs and Ham

by jameee25



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Feels, M/M, Pining Dean, Post Season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6202210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jameee25/pseuds/jameee25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean thought living with Lisa is going to be easy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green Eggs and Ham

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetad, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Your comments and feedback make me thrive.
> 
> Enjoy!

On the tenth day, he wakes up on the sofa. His head is pounding and his mouth feels like something died in there. He has his jeans still on, and the whole situation is so far from the “normal life” he promised Sam, that he almost chuckles. Almost. A quick glance at his watch tells him that it’s almost noon, a few hours after Lisa dropped Ben at school and drove to work. Jesus. He has at least three hours until he has to put on the mask again. To be a good dad, a good…husband, boyfriend, old-time friend? He can’t really tell which, and he doesn’t really care. It’s not like Lisa really buys into this shit. She knows, and he knows she knows, but she doesn’t say anything. And He respects her for that.

He thought that it would be easy with her. Last time he saw her, before his fucking life went to all hells, literally, before his one single desire in life was to fucking eat a bullet and be done with it, she looked at him and Sam and there was no hiding it. She saw it all right there.

So he thought that it would make it easier. No expectations, no explanations. But it wasn’t. They fucked on his first night here. Dean was shaking so bad that he couldn’t open her bra, but at the same time he was determined to do it. He didn’t know if he wanted to forget, to prove something for himself, or to get back at Sam for pulling one on him. For fucking leaving him here and robbing him of the option to follow suit with this stupid promise. 

It wasn’t bad sex. Hell, Dean didn’t believe in bad sex. But it wasn’t good either. Dean was out of his mind with grief, and Lisa was sweet, and understanding, but she was also soft in all the wrong places, and she was so NOT SAM NOT SAM NOT SAM, that Dean was surprised that he even managed to come. It left him feeling hollow, and alone, and miserable. He went to sleep on the sofa after, not wanting to add insult to injury, and that is where he stayed. He slept in worse motels.  
He heaves out a sigh, and it’s his full bladder that forces him off the sofa eventually. He finished his morning routine and heads to the clean, suburban kitchen. Dean never felt more out of place than in this room. He pours himself some coffee, and eyes the whisky bottle on the counter. He sighs again and closes his eyes. Not yet.

***  
He regrets entering the garage the minute he walks in. His Baby is there, proud and shiny. It’s not as if he doesn’t take her out for a ride every night, but the thought about what he is going to do is makes him want to go back and say good morning to Red Johnny back in the kitchen.   
Dean takes a deep breath and moves towards the trunk. He needs to do it. He should have done that days ago, but every time he’s gotten close his hands started shaking. Maybe it’s the alcohol.

Another deep breath and Dean opens the trunk in one swift movement. Dammit, he’s been doing it on auto-pilot since he was sixteen. It shouldn’t be so hard. He lifts up the bottom, and starts to pull out the whole arsenal. He empties it all onto a large bag, which is going to reach South Dakota in about a week. A large bag that is going to go to Bobby’s for keepsake. Until…  
He closes his eyes. He is not going to think about that. Maybe he should just throw it all out. But he can’t. Not yet. He empties the box with the fake ID’s into a small metallic bin and burns them. With matches. His Zippo never made it out of his jacket pocket. 

In and Out. Almost over now. Dean is looking at what was once his weapon stock. Ours, he thinks, and closes his eyes again. Keeps them closely shut until the tingling behind his eyelids stop. When he opens them again, he looks at the now-empty space, and his gaze drops on a small pile in the far right corner, where six sharp shurikens used to sit.

Fuck.

Shit , shit, shit, shit, shit.

He sends out his hands and picks them up, moving away from the truck almost without noticing. His legs bump against the car’s corner, and he doesn’t fight it. He is slowly sliding to the floor, the books held in a death grip in his hand. Two of them slip off and there’s a week flop sound as they hit the garage floor.   
The _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy, in one volume, that Sam bought when he was fourteen. Two Asimov’s, that Dean read and thought they weren’t too bad. _Neverending Story_ , and it’s the first time that morning that Dean smiles.  His brother was always an eleven year old girl. _Watership Down_. Dean has no clue what’s this book is about, but the rabbit on the cover freaks him out a little.

Dean lays the books on the floor, and reaches out to grab the two which fell earlier. Some Clancy rubbish, that Sam must have picked out at some lousy drugstore on when of their travels. He rolls his eyes, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and turns to look at the last book.

The air is leaving his lungs and Dean feels like someone ripped his heart from his chest.

_Green Eggs and Ham_.

He read this story to Sam so many times. On some evenings even twice in a row. Four year old Sammy was convinces that the book was written about him. And Dean didn’t have the heart to correct him. He would just caress his forehead, saying “Sleep now, Sam I Am,” and when his brother would look at him with his big, beautiful eyes and ask “But you’re staying with me, right Dean?” he would just hold him tight, whispering ,”Sure, always Sammy,” into his brother’s soft hair, and fall asleep. 

He barely has time to get to the metal bin before he throws up his guts. His eyes are burning, his face is covered in spit and tears and gastric juices and he can’t get himself to move. 

After fifteen minutes or so, Dean is finally able to move away from the floor. He gets up, and thinks about writing a note for Lisa. He is thinking about broken promises. He is thinking about the look in Bobby’s eyes when he opens the door tomorrow and sees him. He is thinking about Green Eggs and Ham.  
Dean gets in the car, the bag with the weapons is in the trunk and the books are on the passenger seat. He doesn’t think anymore, he just drives.


End file.
